


Keeping (Bloody) Secrets

by uncontrollablesobbing_mp3



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: blood tw, let’s make that a popular tag, minecraft blood tier list, no i’m not kidding, only mentioned lol, vampire mumbo jumbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26152117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncontrollablesobbing_mp3/pseuds/uncontrollablesobbing_mp3
Summary: Vampirism wasn’t exactly fun, for plenty of reasons.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 163





	Keeping (Bloody) Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> yo!!  
> so @ireallydontlikepineapples on tumblr made a post about bumbling vamp mumbo and i couldn’t help myself. enjoy!!

Look, okay, Mumbo knew he was a master procrastinator. 

He did it almost every season with tasks that he absolutely disliked doing- and this was well known by plenty of hermits, especially his close friends.

You could see it in his builds- the redstone happened first, along with basic structure, then the design was filled in, and then  _ if  _ there was terraforming, he did it. Things were divided into nice, neat lists that he could tackle simply.

But this… This was an issue that would most definitely not fall into a nice, neat list and be tackled simply. 

The truth of it was, he had a pretty humongous secret, and, well, the only reason it wasn’t out of the bag from the beginning was because he’d put off telling it for so long.

He thought it over, sitting atop the second tier of his beacon and eating a few golden carrots. They really wouldn’t do much to his hunger bar, but he did admit that having a full stomach made his independent hunger easier to manage. 

Did it count as a type of hunger if it technically was bloodlust? Or were those things synonymous?

His hand brushed over the glass bottle in his pocket, and he could feel his fangs poke out slightly, extending to where he could feel them cutting his bottom lip in two spots. He sighed.

_ No, Mumbo, _ he thought.  _ Keep it together. Don’t drink anything until tonight, when it’s safe. _

_ But I’m hungry, _ his stomach reasoned, and he couldn’t help himself agreeing. 

Vampirism wasn’t exactly fun, for plenty of reasons. 

One. Sunlight hurt. A lot. 

Plenty of his fellow hermits joked often about his full suit, especially during his time with Sahara- Grian and Iskall found it amusing how easily his cheeks sunburned and how quick he was to complain of the desert heat, when it seemed so easy to just remove the suitjacket and keep on going. Mumbo had done so, when there was enough shade, but mostly had suffered through with a grimace and a pout in their direction. 

There were some days when he was out long enough that taking a fire resistance potion actually helped- the sun was just a giant ball of fire, he theorized at some point, and now he had a spare bottle laying around at all times. 

(Piglin bartering was a blessing, he quickly realized, one that he capitalized on full-force.)

Before that, though, he fought through with frequent burns- if he was out collecting and forgot there was a high chance they’d reached second degree territory- and all the chills and dehydration and nausea that seemed to come along with it. 

Two. It was decently difficult finding a viable food source of things that actually sustained his hunger. 

He could eat normal food. He had the system to process it, but it didn’t do anything to satiate him. He could eat until he felt full, but he’d still be hungry if he didn’t drink any blood. 

Sourcing that blood was hard. He’d built up his own little personal ranking scale as to what fixed his hunger best. 

He was a little ashamed at how extensive his research had been. 

Raw meat and rotten flesh were both at the very bottom, proving just barely effective. They were enough to tide him over for the real meal if he got hungry during the day. 

Zombie blood tasted awful and didn’t sit well in his stomach, but it worked better than the flesh. Emergency meal? Sure. Go-to? Absolutely not. 

Chicken, cow, and sheep blood all made the same tier of decent nutrition. It’d been hard to get, though, so he settled that for emergencies as well. 

Pig’s blood was probably the best animal blood substitute. He wasn’t sure why. 

Spider’s blood had poisoned him but filled his hunger completely. A strange paradox that he wasn’t willing to bank on. 

Lastly, villager blood. It’d been a completely awkward affair, having nudged a villager into a private space and reasoned with the idea until his hunger got the better of him. 

It was a bit messy, and he might’ve just tossed over a whole stack of emeralds to pay for it, but it worked. It worked well, which was even better, and every season since he found out, he’d had a dedicated villager to leech from. 

(He gave the villager extra food and more emeralds than probably necessary, but it helped settle some of the guilt in his stomach about the arrangement.)

Mumbo knew that the blood of another player would be optimal. It’d be like eating a golden carrot, in terms of filling the bar and keeping it fuller longer. But, as there was no one who really knew, asking for donations was difficult. 

Three. The server was pretty sure Mumbo was human. 

Of course, there was nothing wrong with being inhuman on the server. 

They had zombies, cyborgs, creepers, and everything in between- so why would anyone have any issue with him being vampiric?

Well, maybe it was because he’d been keeping the secret for so long. Not one person had guessed anything other than human, even though there were plenty of little things he’d done over time that could’ve given him away. 

Iskall commented at some point that he was always a little cooler than he or Grian, out in the desert. Stress had said his heartbeat was super slow. Xisuma had even caught him at one point with blood around his mouth, and he’d managed to stutter out some lame joke about eating redstone- X didn’t seem to mind, thankfully, and told him to make sure he didn’t stain his teeth, but it was a close enough call to make him avoid the admin for a week or two. He was constantly forgetting to sheathe his fangs, and whenever he flew using an elytra, there was a nag at the back of his voice that told him his own wings would be easier to handle. 

But how was he supposed to tell them? He definitely couldn’t just post some notice somewhere saying “ _ oh yeah, by the way, I’m a bloodsucking monster who kept everything secret for years because I’m too much of a coward to admit it _ ”. 

He considered the bottle of villager blood in his pocket, took a quick look around, and then chugged it all down. The taste of iron filled his mouth, and he carefully wiped his mouth with his sleeve, re-sheathing his fangs. 

Mumbo deposited the bottle into a spare chest with a sigh. Telling the rest of the hermits was just going to have to wait: there was still so much work to be done. 

**Author's Note:**

> like, two kudos and i’ll add a part two lol  
> my tumblr is @simonsaysily, please come bug me! apparently i write hermitcraft now so let’s have fun!!
> 
> cya!  
> -si


End file.
